heir left, and then the sign-post would come
in sight. After that the spinney just off the road, and the welcome
presence of Tony, Hastings, and the horses. Ffoulkes got down in order
to make sure of the way. He walked at the horse's head now, fearful lest
he missed the cross-roads and the sign-post.

The horse was getting over-tired; it had covered fifteen kilometres, and
it was close on three o'clock of Monday morning.

Another hour went by in absolute silence. Ffoulkes and Blakeney took
turns at the horse's head. Then at last they reached the cross-roads;
even through the darkness the sign-post showed white against the
surrounding gloom.

"This looks like it," murmured Sir Andrew. He turned the horse's
head sharply towards the left, down a narrower road, and leaving the
sign-post behind him. He walked slowly along for another quarter of an
hour, then Blakeney called a halt.

"The spinney must be sharp on our right now," he said.

He got down from the cart, and while Ffoulkes remained beside the horse,
he plunged into the gloom. A moment later the cry of the seamew rang out
three times into the air. It was answered almost immediately.

The spinney lay on the right of the road. Soon the soft sounds that to a
trained ear invariably betray the presence of a number of horses reached
Ffoulkes' straining senses. He took his old nag out of the shafts, and
the shabby harness from off her, then he turned her out on the piece
of waste land that faced the spinney. Some one would find her in the
morning, her and the cart with the shabby harness laid in it, and,
having wondered if all these things had perchance dropped down from
heaven, would quietly appropriate them, and mayhap thank much-maligned
heaven for its gift.

Blakeney in the meanwhile had lifted the sleeping child out of the cart.
Then he called to Sir Andrew and led the way across the road and into
the spinney.

Five minutes later Hastings received the uncrowned King of France in his
arms.

Unlike Ffoulkes, my Lord Tony wanted to hear all about the adventure
of this afternoon. A thorough sportsman, he loved a good story of
hairbreadth escapes, of dangers cleverly avoided, risks taken and
conquered.

"Just in ten words, Blakeney," he urged entreatingly; "how did you
actually get the boy away?"

Sir Percy laughed--despite himself--at the young man's eagerness.

"Next time we meet, Tony," he begged; "I am so demmed fatigued, and
there's this beastly rain--